


Silence

by eyelikeamagpie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom!Lucifer, Dream Sex, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Present Tense, Top!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-15
Updated: 2012-11-15
Packaged: 2017-11-18 17:24:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/563564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyelikeamagpie/pseuds/eyelikeamagpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What makes us worth saving?” He echoes the devil’s phrase, turning to face him. Because he’s desperate. Because he needs this. “Heart.” He says quietly, taking a step closer. “Courage. Fear. Anger. Love. Hate.” Each word is punctuated by a step, until he closes the distance, directly in front of the other, who watches him placidly from his perch on the bed. “Humanity.” Sam says, and it’s almost a growl as he stares down at the bringer of the Apocalypse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written on Tumblr for Samifer Week 2012. It was also my first real attempt at writing in the present tense, which I have since decided that I dislike doing. Anyway, after some polishing, I decided to put it up here, too. 
> 
> Enjoy~

Lucifer comes to Sam every night.

He familiarises himself with the hunter, predator and prey, learning him. His strengths, his weaknesses. It doesn’t matter if they sit in utter silence – which they do, without fail – he can still follow the man’s thoughts, pluck them from his mind like shimmering silver fish from a stream. Each one, surely, a step closer to the answer he was seeking, the way to make the human say ‘yes’.

Each night, Sam gets angrier.

The silence between them had started out laden with fear; tension and apprehension twisting in the hunter’s gut until he felt ill with it. But as time passed, the anxiety melted into frustration, which progressed to irritation, finally giving way to seething resentment. His dreams should be his own, not warped into silent nights spent avoiding the devil’s gaze.

It’s on one such night that the silence is broken by a question.

“What makes them so worth saving?”

Sam is staggered. The words sound too loud in the room, where nothing has ever been uttered before now. He turns, making direct eye contact for the first time – another taboo shattered – but he doesn’t speak. Simply stares as the Morningstar eyes him with curious interest. Doesn’t tear his gaze away until he wakes to the blare of Kansas, ready for another day.

The next night is silent again.

And the next.

It takes a week for the re-established taboos to be broken once more.

Sam’s aggravation builds again during that week, but this time it evolves into desperation. He needs to do... something. He needs to know that he tried, even if it’s hopeless.

These are the thoughts that lead him to rise from his chair on the seventh night after Lucifer’s words.

“What makes us worth saving?” He echoes the devil’s phrase, turning to face him. Because he’s _desperate._ Because he _needs_ this. “Heart.” He says quietly, taking a step closer. “Courage. Fear. Anger. Love. Hate.” Each word is punctuated by a step, until he closes the distance, directly in front of the other, who watches him placidly from his perch on the bed. “ _Humanity_.” Sam says, and it’s almost a growl as he stares down at the bringer of the Apocalypse.

But Lucifer simply observes with vague interest.

It’s not enough. It’s nowhere near enough, and Sam is _desperate._ He has to make him see.

These are the thoughts that lead him forwards, a hand fisting in the thick plaid shirt to pull him closer, and he presses his lips against the devil’s, vicious and reckless, because he _needs_ Lucifer to understand, needs him to _know_.

And maybe this is all they are. Maybe this is humanity, everything he’s been trying so hard to save. Just lust and heat and carnal desire, the push of bodies and clashes of teeth and tongue.

But it’s enough.

Enough to be worth the fight.

Enough to let him press the devil into the sheets, undoing the buttons of his shirt with frantic movements.

Enough to have Lucifer stare at him with something close to hesitant awe as he pulls away to trail lips down the Morningstar’s chest.

Enough.

And if the fallen archangel lets out a noise that sounds entirely human when the hunter presses a slick finger inside him; if he trembles and quivers with that first, excruciatingly good push; if his eyes flutter at the pressure and sensation with every movement of their hips; if he cries out and tilts his head back when he can take no more, then maybe, _maybe_ , it’s enough to make him understand.

This is the night that Sam Winchester teaches the devil what it means to be human.

The next night is far from silent.


End file.
